The Eidolon
by MaatsProdigy
Summary: President Cullen's sons are captured and he'll do anything to get them back alive. His only hope is the legendary Eidolon, the most feared assassin born from a CIA black operation gone horribly wrong. A story of action and managing to find love in a world of unimaginable horrors.
1. A Phantom Being

**_0_**

**_/Eye-du-lan/ noun._**

**_Derived from ancient Greek literature_**

**_A phantom being_**

**PROLOGUE**

Every agency bureau and special force knows the legend of the Eidolon.

The Eidolon is someone that all assassins fear and strive to be measured against and yet no one even knows who the Eidolon really is. It is unknown whether the killer is a man or a woman or even if the Eidolon is an actual person and not just a fictional legend. The legend entails of a person who was specifically drafted along with 19 others in a CIA black operation entitled 'Eidola'. The details of the operation are unknown as most things are with the CIA, yet it was known that the operation was designed to create a Special Forces branch of the CIA made up of 20 highly advanced and lethal assassins, much like the Navy SEALS or Green Beret's yet trained only to kill and without remorse. The branch if successful was going to be named Eidola, plural for Eidolon and the ancient Greek term for phantoms, aptly named for they were extensively trained to be unseen when killing.

However, the operation was a horrific failure from the beginning. The CIA operatives and "trainers" in charge did unspeakable things to push the candidates to their limits, to break them so their enemies couldn't. They were being reborn as mindless killing machines not to feel pain, but it failed as the candidates didn't just break, they had shattered. Of the original 20; 10 killed themselves before the first week, 5 died of their injuries due to the training exercises and 2 had suffered a severe mental breakdown and spiraled into a psychosis that saw them brutally kill another 2 candidates before killing themselves. Only one was left, the lone survivor of an operation that was meant to have 20 survivors. After that no one knows and it's where the legend began, all the CIA operatives and trainers who had contact with the operation had turned up dead and at the hand of the lone survivor. Now dubbed the Eidolon, the last living candidate fled the CIA and has never been seen since.

The legend while unknown to the general public had spread to every organisation of power. It had taken hold indefinitely when foreign terrorists and criminals on the world's most wanted lists started to drop dead, killed by the dozen by an unknown killer that seemed to take pleasure in what they were doing. With the numbers in dead rising, still no one had seen the perpetrator which every agency had no doubt was the Eidolon. From then on the CIA had openly admitted their mistake in ever having such an operation sanctioned and that they were deploying all forces to eliminate the Eidolon before the rogue assassin could start killing innocent people.

It had been years since the CIA had released that statement and began the manhunt for the Eidolon yet it was obvious to all other agencies and the CIA themselves that the Eidolon would most likely never be caught, every operative sent to retrieve the assassin came back in a body bag. The Eidolon became the CIA's dirtiest secret and despite all evidence of the operation and the Eidolon disappearing, the legend lived on and carried through the FBI, NAVY, NSA, ADF, DOD, Homeland Security and every other renowned agency and force that one could think of.

It was apparent with the death toll of hundreds of most wanted criminals at the Eidolon's hands, that the assassin was very correctly named. When forces were sent to investigate suspicious deaths on a large scale, there would be dozens of dead men in a room yet there was never even a single hair that led to their killer. Not a single hair, shred of skin or even a drop of blood, it was as if a ghost had swept into the room and merely floated out after decimating all life in its remorseless path. Like all legends it continued to spin and weave where now it's told if the phantom killer is after you, all you'll see is a flicker of a shadow, like a ghost you see in your periphery before it strikes and you are dead before you hit the floor.

It was a topic so talked about throughout the years it still came up when conversation was sparse. Some feared or admired the Eidolon while others believed the whole legend is entirely fictional and designed to slander the CIA or henceforth told just to inspire other agencies to fear the CIA itself. One thing however, was concrete, whenever another terrorist group, drug cartel or criminal organization suddenly collapsed with every member dead, the agency leaders would look at each other not with confusion but with a resigned demeanour, pleased of the enemies' downfall but equally fearful that one day this rogue and seemingly invincible killer would turn to them.


	2. Hospital For Souls

**_1_**

**_Everybody wants to go to Heaven_**

**_But nobody wants to die_**

**CHAPTER 1**

**Location:** Abandoned distillery in the port city of Livorno, West Coast of Tuscany, Italy.

**Mission: **Raid and reconnaissance on a confirmed headquarters of the Volturi mob organization.

**Time: **1900 Zulu.

**THIRD PERSON**

_"Head count, check in!"_

_"Seal Team 1, in position"_

_"Seal Team 2, in position"_

_"Seal Team 3, in position"_

_"Excellent job men, you are finally able to move your pansy asses faster than my grandmother! Now let's move!"_

Deep chuckles echoed in the earpieces attached to the men scattered all around the derelict distillery. The men were unseen in the darkness as their ink black gear blended them seamlessly from head to toe with the rot covered walls of the decaying building.

_"Ever the encouraging supporter, Chief," _muttered the largest camouflaged soldier, his dimples noticeable even through the facemask of the wetsuit as he smiled rather mischievously.

_"Shut it Cullen, teams give me your recon."_

_"Appears to be a group of 4 lightly armed men on the north and west side playin' Texas Hold em', no heavy weaponry in sight or cover positions from this vantage point,"_ the heavy southern accent could easily be detected in the words even when muffled by the earpieces.

_"Same for the east and south side," _muttered a velvet smooth voice.

_"That's odd; our source confirmed this was a headquarters for the Volturi organization, there shouldn't be a small number of lightly armed men playing poker at a key hideout!"_

_"Maybe the rest are just sleeping with the machine guns under their beds?"_

_"CULLEN!"_

_"Shutting up"_

_"Do we proceed with the mission, Chief?" _interjected the velvet voice, irritation now covering the smooth lilt.

_"Affirmative,"_ the Chief snapped instantly,_ "even if there is a small chance of finding anything we have to take it, this organization is gaining too much power quickly with their terrorist links and are already an international threat! Gather any intelligence you can find, destroy anything of value to their operations and no prisoners! On my signal…"_

With that the three teams of five readied their weapons, the shrill clinking sound of the weapons being cocked bounced quietly in the air as all fifteen men sank into position.

_"GO!"_

With the signal, the fifteen heavily armed soldiers moved to infiltrate the distillery. The synchronization of their precise movements, barely detectable in the night, was evidence of their intensive training and unbreakable brotherhood.

As soon as the teams broke down the doors of the supposed headquarters, an ear splitting bang and flash shrieked throughout the air as all fifteen soldiers were brutally blown off their feet.

None of the soldiers could stand with the unstable equilibrium that the flash grenades had painfully caused. They were blinded from the disorientation and a shrill ringing echoed throughout the earpieces, deafening them. Excruciated groans resonated within the brick walls of the building as debris rained down on them and each fell into unwilling unconsciousness.

**...**

An attractive couple around their mid-twenties surveyed the scene before them as they casually strolled through the wreckage of the ruined building. They removed the protective gas masks from their faces as the flash from the grenades dissolved and they observed the fifteen groaning soldiers on the ground.

The woman's brilliant shock of orange hair stood out vividly against the filth colored beige bricks of the building whilst her partner's sandy coloured hair, tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck, seemed to disappear with the colours behind him. Both stood with a cocky demeanour and looked down with disgust at the unconscious men on the floor.

"These are the special forces protecting the country?" remarked the woman snidely as she delivered a rather vicious kick to the face of the largest man in the group.

The man, amused with his wife's display replied with a dry chuckle as she continued to comment derisively as they searched for their targets. Both of them carried small paring knives in their hands, using the blades to cleanly cut the wetsuit masks off the men's faces.

"Here's one," muttered the sandy haired man as he knelt by one of the unconscious men, his ripped mask showing a mop of bright bronze hair and pale, angular features akin to an aristocrats.

"Oh yes, the pretty boy," the woman leered, her mess of wild hair flailing with excitement as she watched her husband tie up the man's hands and feet.

The woman circled back to the man she had kicked, ripping through the golden trident insignia embroidered on his mask to see his facial features. A full brown grin graced her delicate features as she tied up the huge boulder of a man and hauled him in a position that would make him easier to drag.

"Victoria, this is the last one, drag the one you have and I'll meet you by the car so we can head straight to Volterra," the man grunted at his wife as he pulled two unconscious men by the feet behind him, the golden curls of one turning black with dirt and dust as his head dragged across the floor next to his brother.

"If I can even drag this lump, James," the woman replied as she watched her partner leave with the two men before looking back at her own captive with a sneer plastered on her face, she heaved the massively broad and giant man in her arms before walking awkwardly backwards towards the door after husband.

"Oh this plan better work," she panted, as she heaved the heavy set man back in her arms with a grunt.

As she and her husband finally stuffed the three brothers in the back of their SUV, both stood still, staring with an unhinged gleam at the three men that any terrorist would sacrifice anything for.

"I can't believe how pathetic they are"

The woman's occupation with taunting her unconscious captive's held her attention from the man beside her who was leering lasciviously at his raving companion.

"Seriously, they are so pitif-_mmph_"

Her snide remark was cut short as without warning, the man grabbed his fire-haired lover in a crude embrace, his lips dominating hers as she forgot her cruel taunts and immediately began to bite back ravenously. Her nails scratched his thinly clothed back as he roughly palmed her behind, they hungrily moaned with intoxicated pleasure. Everything about the couple screamed animalistic, from her wild scarlet locks to their carnal embrace that mimicked the destructive fire in their hearts. Their pain and ecstasy inducing touches only served to exhibit the true sadistic natures that they both wore with a grin.

They broke apart as harshly as they came; their ragged breathing was the only sound amidst the inactivity of the fallen night in their decrepit surroundings.

"This is just the beginning my love," the man spoke hoarsely, "and I cannot _wait_ until the finale."

She answered with a maniacal grin as they untangled without further word, both getting into the vehicle and starting off towards Volterra, home of the Volturi mob.

**CARLISLE **

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY'VE BEEN KIDNAPPED?!"

I ignored the sharp twinge in my hands as I pulled the collar of the secret service agents' shirt with a painful tension. I had him by the neck as I saw my spit land on his face but I didn't care as icy tendrils of fear clutched my heart and began to tighten. Within a few seconds the rest of the white house security had a hold of me, wrenching me away from the agent.

"Mr President! Carlisle! Calm down!" yelled Felix, my head of security, but I was beyond calm, the icy hand that had an unrelenting grip on my heart was battling with the sudden rage that burned through my system.

"CALM DOWN?! YOU TELL ME MY SONS HAVE BEEN KIDNAPPED AND YOU WANT ME TO CALM DOWN?!"

I freed myself from the guard's grips and took hold of the uneasy agent once more.

"WHAT HAPPENED?!" I bellowed in his face that was now drained of any colour.

"I-if you would please stop yelling and calm down Mr President I will inform you," stated the agent calmly, only a slight tremor could be detected in his voice as he looked up at me by a few inches. I practically growled at the man as he told me to calm down, presidency be damned, my sons were in danger and the horrible feeling in my chest was growing tighter by the second.

"Carlisle?"

"Esme!"

I released the agent just in time to catch my wailing wife as she ran into the room and flew into me, her familiar weight easing some of the icy tension in me as I buried my face in her hair, breathing in her perfume. I rubbed circles on her shaking back as she tried to calm her hysterics.

I glared at the security staff to leave and I could see the shock, sympathy and confusion etched onto their features as they filed out of the room. I was never rude to any of my staff and glaring at them was definitely a first, but I couldn't bring myself to feel any remorse as I sat in one of the leather chairs in my office, my wife crying with grief in my lap.

The secret service agent walked over hesitantly before sitting in the leather chair a few meters opposite of where Esme and I were.

"Mr President?" the agent murmured questioningly.

I looked up at him and felt the urge to attack him once more as Esme cried, I turned my eyes back to my wife, hugging her tightly in hopes to ease the overwhelming grief that consumed us both.

"Talk," I said tightly, my voice threatening to break as I felt my eyes water.

"They were on a mission to raid a confirmed Volturi headquarters for reconnaissance in Livorno, Italy. Their orders were to gather intelligence and destroy anything that would benefit the Volturi mob," the agent said, continuing to speak in a quick, low tone that was meant to be soothing.

"Confirmed? By who?" I asked, my voice coming out harshly.

"We don't know," the agent uttered hesitatingly, "the information was given by a reliable source in the Navy for the SEALS to execute; we are currently questioning the intelligence officers for the source."

My eyes narrowed at the statement but I held my tongue as Esme's heartbreaking sobs beat against my heart.

"Continue."

"All that is known is that as the teams stormed the building, several low impact mines and flash grenades were set off at close range which knocked them all unconscious. By the time one of the members awoke and alerted the base, Jasper, Emmett and Edward were gone and presumably kidnapped based on the footsteps and marks in the dust on the floor-"

The agent was cut off as Esme keened, burying her face in my chest as I sat frozen staring ahead. This was my worst nightmare coming to light. Winning the presidency was one of my biggest achievements but it was nothing compared to the pride and love I held for my wife and sons. When my sons began to train to become Navy SEALS, I was wracked with fear from the beginning. My sons were famous just for being mine and their aspiration to be in a special force would be the same as putting a sign on them saying 'FREE BARGAINING CHIPS.' I knew that if they were ever captured, I would do anything to get them back alive because those boys meant the world to Esme and me. Not a day went by when I wasn't afraid that an enemy I had unavoidably made as the American president would harm my family. But it seemed that day had arrived.

"Why low impact weapons?" my voice was hoarse, cracked with emotion as I refused to let go of my wife even for a second.

"It seems the intention of the kidnappers was to capture them alive and not dead," the agent said bluntly and formally, "presumably because your sons are in a special force privy to sensitive material regarding national security as well as the fact they are a way to America's president," the agents sentence finished with a regret that broke his professional facade.

"S-so they'll h-hurt my boys to get i-information?"

My eyes slid shut as Esme spoke through her tear filled voice, I could hear the agent open and close his mouth several times in hopes to appease the sobbing woman by saying_ no_, but he couldn't because we all knew that is exactly what would happen.

"I'm sorry Mrs Cullen"

Esme's choked cries renewed as she clutched me in a painful grip that I did not try to lessen, I held her just as strongly in comfort and support.

"We are deploying every force to find your sons, Mr and Mrs Cullen and I assure you we will do everything we can to bring them back home alive."

My eyes remained tightly closed as I heard the agent leave the room; I continued to breathe in my wife's scent rhythmically_, _calming the sobs that tried to fight their way out my chest.

"We have to find them Carlisle, we just h-have too," I heard Esme whisper quietly against my neck

"I promise we will, we'll find our boys and bring them home, we have every resource in the country to look for them and we will. I promise," my words of reassurances repeated over and over, late in the morning until my Esme fell asleep in exhaustion.

The cries that I had struggled to withhold bubbled up and spilt from my throat in ugly sobs. All I could think about were my sons being tortured by my enemies, the people that hated this country with everything they had or the ones driven by an unforgiving greed. If people were willing to kill for their beliefs, wealth or power, I couldn't even begin to comprehend what they would do to my sons. I fell asleep soon after Esme, praying that my promise of our boys coming back alive came through; because I vowed right then and there that I would do _anything_ to make sure they came back alive and well.

**FELIX DEL MARCO**

It was two days after the kidnapping. My doorbell rang tonelessly and I was surprised to see Tori as I opened the door, I smiled for the first time in two days as I caught her in my arms. Her tongue was down my throat in an instant and I barely remembered to shut the door as we began what I knew would be the perfect stress reliever to recent events. Neither of us were committing people, nor looking for anything serious but we were compatible and at this point, after meeting a couple of months ago in a bar, we were just great fucks to each other. I couldn't really find a label for us and I didn't care, she was my 'girlfriend' to other people but we both had our own lives, whenever she was in town she stayed at her place and spent the nights at mine.

Her suit was strewn all over the floor, her CIA badge on the neck tie was still on, resting between her breasts as we lazed, spent on the bed.

I toyed with the badge, "do they have any leads?" I uttered quietly, unsure whether she would tell me such information or not. She bit her lip as she clearly debated with herself before shrugging minutely, her wild curls bouncing with every movement.

"No," she replied sadly, "I'm not on the task force but news travels fast, they are sure it's the Volturi, a big factor being the SEALS were trying to raid their territory. The Volturi are so secret being such a new organisation that the CIA, FBI, NSA, no one, has information on them, at all. And without information on where they could have taken them, they have no leads."

My hand caressed her bare pale shoulder; silence filled the air as my hand ran through the ruby strands of her thick hair.

"I can't begin to understand what Esme and Carlisle feel," I spoke quietly.

"Neither can I… I wish I could help, I just…" she stumbled over her words as her ocean blue eyes locked with mine.

"What? Do you know of something that could help?" I shifted to look at her more closely.

"Yes, I just don't know if it's actually… real," her eyes flashed with something indecipherable and I waited for her to continue.

"Well?" I asked, eager at the thought of something that could bring back the President's sons, the boys I protect when they're on American soil.

"It's just this legend that floats around all the time in the agency, of this assassin that's unbeatable. There is evidence to their existence but I don't think people would actually be able to find this person, let alone get someone like that to agree to help."

"An assassin?" I repeated, dumbfounded, "how would an assassin help?"

"Who better to infiltrate a ruthless mob than an unbeatable killer who's never been caught?"

"I suppose so," I conceded, "but they don't know if this person is even real?"

"They don't," she nodded, her head moved to rest on my chest as her hand came up to trace patterns on my stomach.

I spat out my last question as lust started to build up once more for the woman whose hand was starting to stray lower.

"What's the killer's name?"

I didn't think Tori heard me as she shifted to straddle my waist, sitting up with a salacious smirk on her face as I openly leered at her naked form. She tilted her head slightly, staring at me and again, her eyes flashed indecipherably once more and I was momentarily distracted as I tried to place my confusion.

"Eidolon," she breathed, before effectively capturing my attention once more as her bare breasts pressed into my chest and her scarlet lips crashed into mine with a pleasurable force.

"The legend" she whispered as we broke apart, "is called the Eidolon."

**...**

"How the fuck did they get inside the gates?!"

I grunt in exertion as I haul another screaming pair of incensed reporters out from behind the meticulously clipped hedges and make my way to Demetri who holds the side gate open with a bland smirk on his face. I toss the shrieking pair out and turn away with Demetri on my heels, not bothering to answer the indignant reporters who were incessantly shouting about their so called rights.

I turn to Demetri as we continue to scan around the eastern wall of the house; the headache that harshly beat against my skull was a constant reminder of the emotionally exhausting turmoil that has been the past three days.

"Well?" I growl through clenched teeth.

"They are determined, more than usual, to get through the gates, even if it means bribing the staff obscene amounts of money just to get a half an hour," replies Demetri as he holds up the memory drive from the photographer's camera before releasing it. He stomps on it as soon as it hits the ground and it shatters into irreparable pieces.

I sigh in disgust at the lengths people will go to as I look up at the incredibly impressive white mansion that proudly stands amidst the emerald grass, the stars and stripes of the American flag flies in the whipping wind and my sigh turns to one of sadness.

"How are they doing?" Demetri asks with a troubled tone.

"As well as you can imagine, they've barricaded themselves in the study and aren't answering any phone calls."

"Do they know about the media's response?"

"Most likely yes, the maid says she can hear the TV in the room turned on and talking but they don't answer when she knocks."

Demetri exhales a deep breath and the fists of my headache continue to pummel my brain relentlessly as we double back to our starting point where we could finally rotate off. I shake my head as we pass the side gate where the reporters are still banging on the gates and hurling insults.

"This is fucking bullshit," Demetri hisses in disbelief, "Do they have no respect?"

"Apparently not" I growl out, equally infuriated at the unending stream of reporters who were seemingly without an ounce of compassion when it came to the horrible grief of the two residents in the White House.

I change direction and start towards the gate where the reporters seem to snap out of their childish harangue and take notice of my size and the furious twist to my features. They scramble back hurriedly and with a few more menacing steps they stumble their way from the gate and down the long path back to the city.

I make my way back to a chuckling Demetri with a small smile but it quickly upends back into a frown as we wait for the two other guards to come so we can end our shift.

When the news had been leaked three days ago that Edward, Jasper and Emmett, the awed Navy SEALS, had been kidnapped by an identified threat overseas, the country had gone into an absolute frenzy while the media exploded at the seams. From morning till night, the faces of the President's sons were plastered on every corner, magazine, newspaper and covered every inch of the internet and TV.

Carlisle had always risen through the ranks quickly as a politician, easily favoured over the opposition with his genuine honesty and clear cut morals that was easily seen even through a TV screen. It was a surprise to no one when he was elected, and then re-elected, he and his family were incredibly popular with the media and public of America. Carlisle had never steered them wrong so far and whilst negativities came with the job, he was inarguably one of the best President's they had seen in a long time. The First Lady, Esme, had always been a very influential public figure with her notable charity work and occupation as a nurse attached to volunteer teams that work in third world countries. Their three sons however, could probably outshine both of their parents with the public attention they received. All three were in their twenties and 'three hunks of eye-blinding gorgeousness' as the girl magazines so lovingly put it. Each of the Cullen boys had a fanatic group of both sexes and of all ages that the media never failed to cater to.

With the loss of America's icons; the air had been suffused with a hollowness and paranoia that struck the hearts of them all.

"You know if they've got any leads?" said Demetri as the two other guards finally came and we both made our way into the White House.

"I don't know," I respond gruffly, "the CIA are certain of the Volturi mob but are stumped as how to proceed, they have no knowledge of headquarters or bases or even the hierarchy in the organisation. It's so hushed, I mean that's what the boys were doing in the first place trying to uncover information, but they have none, so they're stuck."

"Well… shit," was Demetri's articulate reply and I could only shrug my shoulders at the shared sentiment.

I had been attached as one of the Cullen family's personal bodyguards from the beginning of Carlisle's campaign before becoming Carlisle's head of security. I knew firsthand how kind and amazing the five of them were as they integrated me and the other guards into their family seamlessly. We were all chosen by Carlisle specifically and mostly due to the extensive travel that came with the job, we all personally knew how genuine and kind our President was. To see the family ripped apart in terror and grief was unforgivable to watch.

"How'd you even know? When I asked the suits I got stonewalled!" exclaimed Demetri, his Middle Eastern accent becoming more pronounced as he spoke vehemently.

"You got stonewalled because they don't have anything," I muttered, "Tori told me."

"Tori? Your girl that travels a lot?"

I smiled faintly thinking of my long distant 'girlfriend', "Yeah, she works with the CIA but isn't a part of the team looking for the boys. She got back yesterday but has to leave again soon."

"That sucks man," Demetri uttered sympathetically and unnecessarily, but I nodded as we continued down the long hallway, "You know you've got to get Carlisle and Esme out of that room; they have to be kept informed of this and meet with the suits."

"Yeah," I agreed, intending to do just that as I stood before the stairs that would lead me to Carlisle's study.

Demetri nodded my way and clapped me on the back before heading off to get his stuff to leave for the day. I made my way up the lavish, marble staircase, determined in my task to get Carlisle and Esme out of that room. I stopped short of the mahogany door that opened to the study, wisps of mourning and agony were practically leaking from the cracks of the door that would lead me to the aggrieved couple and I was suddenly terrified of what I would see on the other side.

I could hear the blaring voices of the TV through the door, the nasal tones and formal speech of the news anchors repeatedly reminding the nation of the loss of the pair huddled in the room.

"Carlisle?" I spoke firmly to the door, "Esme? Open the door, please."

No response.

"I need to tell you… you need to come out and let us help you."

I waited, my worry for the couple rising in pitch and gripping me in a tense hold of anxiety. My earlier discussion with Tori came to the forefront of my mind but I was still unsure, willing to do anything I could to help Carlisle and Esme but the possibility of false hope was something I could not give them.

I was as taut as a wire, unsure of what else to say as I heard the electronic beep of the soundproof door signal its opening. The door seemed to exhale softly as it automatically parted with the door frame and allowed me to push the door open.

"What do you want, Felix?"

I was frozen, my hand on the knob of the door turned bone white in its grip. My fear only worsened as I stared at the deteriorating couple in front of me. The study itself was spotless, not one thing out of place except for the two hunched figures that sat in the single leather chair that faced the TV.

Carlisle's voice was hoarse, as if he had not spoken but had only cried for the past three days, the once impeccable and formidable man was unrecognisable. His golden curls were haphazard and slicked with unshowered grease; his clothes were in no better shape as they hung off a slightly wasted frame. The once happiest and carefree resident the white house had ever known was struck down with pure grief as he sat stiffly in the chair, his eyes fastened to the smiling faces of his sons on the TV screen. Esme was no better as she sat curled in Carlisle's laps, their arms wrapped around each other tightly as she sat with a catatonic demeanour, her face etched with raw dread as tears ran unendingly in a heartbreaking stream down her face.

I didn't realise I was holding my breath until the headache drumming in my head reached new strengths and I released the air in my lungs with a relieved sigh. Concern and pain for the terrified couple was all I could feel as I forced myself to stay calm and vowed to do anything I could to help them and the kidnapped trio.

"Carlisle, Esme, you cannot keep doing this, you need to let us help so we can get your boys back."

At the mention of Edward, Emmett and Jasper; Esme broke out of her depressed reverie and started to shake with the force of her cries as Carlisle glared at me and immediately started to sooth her. Each other's presence seemed to be the only sliver of solace they could find, simultaneously grounding each other whilst being a reminder of what had been taken.

Carlisle's blonde curls, Esme's copper hair, the dimples that adorned both of their cheeks…

The pierce of Carlisle's gaze was frightening; his eyes were blank and the sapphire blue that matched Jasper's so clearly was glazed over.

"Please," I whispered forlornly, hating the fact that I was causing them further anguish.

I resigned myself to what I was about to say, hoping with every fibre of my being that I was making the right decision in telling them what might not even be true.

"I think I might have something that could help bring them back."

Their heads snapped up instantly, their eyes flashing desperately with a flicker of hope that broke through the haze of despair that immersed the room.

"What?" Carlisle growled out as I hesitated.

"Carlisle, Esme…"

I took an unnecessary deep breath, hoping, praying that this was the right choice.

"Have you ever heard of the Eidolon?"


	3. The Scarlet Cross

**2**

**_They will never know all the blood we've shed_**

**_The scarlet cross we bear, until the bitter end_**

**CHAPTER 2**

**THIRD PERSON**

For the first time in 3 days, signs of life were reappearing in Carlisle and Esme as they sat in front of the CIA director. The flames of anticipation were moving through them like a salve, momentarily easing their minds as their thoughts were filled with nothing but the wellbeing of their sons and the mysterious killer that had suddenly become their lone pillar of hope. The couple sat in the same leather chair in the Presidential study but instead of despondent appearances, both sat cleanly in fresh clothes and yet both were incredibly transparent in their fear as they nervously fidgeted with bitten fingernails and feverishly bright eyes that did nothing to hide the dark circles that came with a lack of sleep.

The CIA president sat directly front of the nervous Carlisle and Esme.

He sat with a height just at 6 foot; his lean body was muscled and pale, with calculating onyx eyes that resembled granite and short black hair that was slicked back in a politician-like style. His face was of harsh angles, dark brows over pale skin with heavy set eyes, an angular nose and slightly full lips. The man would be considered attractive by a number of people if not for the absolute coldness he exuded as he sat stonily in his obviously expensive charcoal grey suit.

His manner was portentous and domineering, but it was immune to the couple in front of him who couldn't have cared less what the man resembled; if he was the way to get back their sons, there wasn't anything they wouldn't do.

The man shifted, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"You want the Eidolon?"

Esme and Carlisle nodded, they were the presidential couple and not intimidated; but they were cautious in respecting the man. Initially.

"And what makes you think the Eidolon is real?"

"Don't!"

Both men were startled at Esme's sharp snap, "You either tell us that this person is real or they are not. You tell us if they can help and then you will give us that help. Do not even attempt to placate us with your political bullshit, I don't care if this person exposes every dark spot on the CIA; if they are as truly strong as I was told and are the best hope for saving our sons with no godamn questions asked, then you WILL help us!"

A smirk bloomed on the man's face as he watched Esme breath heavily from the emotions of her rant.

"The Eidolon is real"

The CIA director was enjoying the dramatics, his smirk deepening as Esme gasped and Carlisle's eyes widened. The man was practically laughing at the pale and shocked faces of his country's leaders.

"And we are not hunting her like everybody thinks we are; we are funding her."

"Her?!"

"Yes. Her. She was the only one to survive the operation, the one to train a new branch of the CIA as enforcers."

Esme chuckled nervously; they all knew what _enforcers _meant.

"Why didn't they survive? How did you pick the people in the operation? Shouldn't this have gone through me first? Funding?!" Carlisle's tone turned angrier with each question.

"The operation was designed for the candidates to withstand all pain and obviously, all but one couldn't. All 20 were orphans, 10 women and 10 men between the ages of 18 to 25 who had displayed increased intelligence. And with all due respect Mr. President, you would have said no."

"Of course I would have! The deaths in this obviously barbaric operation prove that this should never have been sanctioned. We have the SEAL's, Beret's and every other regiment that push men to their limits already, what the hell were you thinking in committing actions that out of 20, only one survived?"

"That I cannot answer, I became director after the previous one was removed because of the operation and all the people involved were killed by her. I assume that as you said, the Navy has the SEAL's, the army has the Green Beret's; ergo the CIA wanted its own foreign branch of elites."

"What did they do to them? To the orphans?"

The CIA director turned to stare at Esme and the maternal expression that graced her features, he was obviously unsure as to how to answer the sudden question until Carlisle shook his head surreptitiously, knowing his wife would take it badly and to heart.

"Everything," the man stated simply.

"You said that you were funding her?" Asked Carlisle, breaking the silence that ensued.

"Yes, after all members that were part of the operation were killed by the Eidolon, which is what we call her, she had run away. It had gone public by then and the search for her was fruitless, all the coverts we sent to find her came back dead. I was promoted to director and the next day, when I walked into my office, she was just… sitting there…"

The director's humour was arising once more in the grave situation as both the President and his wife gasped dramatically with mouths wide open in shock.

"... and we struck a deal," his eyes glazed as he remembered; for the first time a flicker of fear broke his composure, "in essence we agreed that we would stop sending people after her and divert all other agency attempts to find her, she became a free, rogue agent who did not belong to the CIA but whenever we had a case that we couldn't make progress on, we were to call her and she would clear it up. Everyone else however, will still think that we are trying to find her."

"So you are _providing_ her with the information to kill?" Carlisle chuckled bitterly at the deception that the CIA were so adept at.

"It was her only stipulation, she wanted the information and she wanted to continue being who she is. Just not in the hold of the CIA, I doubt anyone could contain her anyway."

"How do you contact her?"

"We don't, she contacts us. We have no number, no address, no nothing. Whenever we need her, she somehow knows and she calls us from a burn phone."

"Bugs?" Carlisle inquired, his eyes involuntarily glancing around the room in suspicion.

"We've swept every single headquarters for recording devices but have never found any"

The room stilled into an unsure silence before Esme's firm voice broke though.

"What did you mean when you said that the trainers did _everything_? What did they do to the candidates? To her?"

The director stared at Esme's tearful yet determined emerald eyes that were so alike her youngest son's.

"I want to know," she directed firmly towards Carlisle, letting him know that his attempts at surreptitiously diverting the conversation away from her previous question was not working.

Carlisle and Esme gazed at each other, he raised a questioning eyebrow with a concerned expression and she nodded in response, she was sure. Carlisle sighed before turning away from the silent conversation with his wife and back to the man whose black gaze was boring a hole between the two.

"I would like to know too... what we are dealing with," said Carlisle.

The man opposite Carlisle and Esme, his lips tilted up in a smile that looked incredibly unsettling on his granite cut face. The tilted quirk promised dark things that made Esme and Carlisle immediately cautious.

"What would you like to know?"

"Where was this held?" asked Esme.

"An abandoned warehouse in Phoenix, Arizona, we found it burnt to the ground with the bodies of the trainers of the operation inside."

"How many trainers were there?"

"10. We had managed to salvage a few documents where it showed that every day, 2 trainers would take 4 candidates to conduct sessions. 5 groups in total."

"And the last one, she killed 10 people by herself? How?" Esme asked with a mix of suspicious and incredulity.

"She was aptly trained on how to kill, the program they were subjected to is much alike the process of training any elite special force but without legal restraints. We are unsure of how long they were there for but it was enough. She would have been taught all methods of execution and would definitely have the anger. The trainers were not kind."

"How can you know that about the trainers?"

"Well they were from the CIA weren't they?" the director replied with a dark grin.

Esme gasped, her curiosity warring with nausea as she stared at the man who was taking far too much pleasure in her and Carlisle's discomfort.

"So," the man chuckled softly, "you still want me to ask this woman to go after your boys?"

"No!" Carlisle snapped.

Esme looked up in disbelief, her mouth opening to argue before she saw the look of pure determination in the hardened features of her husband.

"I want you to ask this woman to go after _the bastards_ who took our boys"

**...**

The director was frozen from the fierce glares of both Carlisle and Esme.

"Do you realise what you are asking?"

"I didn't think I would have to repeat myself to you," Esme snapped, "I want to meet her, I want to meet the woman that I am asking to save my sons"

Esme's declaration was met with a deafening silence as Carlisle and Esme sat with a steel resolve whilst the CIA director felt a sudden cold sweat break out over his skin. He did not want to ask this of the Eidolon, the figure with whom he tried to avoid at all costs, the thought alone made his body tense as he thought of their first and last encounter.

"I've heard many legends in my time but I've only ever believed one, that if the Eidolon wishes to kill you, you will only see a flicker of a shadow before you are dead"

Esme's eyes narrowed in anger at the director's overdramatic and dissuasive attempts.

He held in his sigh of defeat, unwilling to show his hesitancy, "I will ask her to complete the mission, of that I am sure she will agree to. As for meeting you, if she says no, there is nothing that I could do to change her mind"

"We understand that, we only ask that you give us the opportunity to meet her before we ask her to do something like this," replied Carlisle.

The director chuckled, somehow sounding both exhausted and amused.

"This mission will not be troublesome for her; I rather think that the Eidolon will enjoy it. To her this will be... fun."

The director's chuckles grew louder as Carlisle and Esme's faces turned up in horror at the thought of someone enjoying killing.

The director glanced at his watch before moving to get up.

"Good luck meeting her Mr and Mrs President; unfortunately I have somewhere else to be. I will call you with her answer as soon as possible"

The director left, still amused as he was escorted out by White House security, but as he walked out of the building his face soon dropped in wariness and tension strung his nerves at the thought of what he had to do.

"Oh well," he muttered underneath his breathe, "Time to stay away from the shadows"

He humourlessly chucked at his own joke before reaching for his phone, the polished black glass sitting ominously in his hand as he closed his eyes, waiting.

Not a minute passed before the phone started to vibrate and shake with the call from an unknown number, the director sighed and shook his head; the familiar disbelief and fear warring inside him at the notion that she always knew when to call. He steeled his nerves, unwilling to convey any emotion that could give her leverage.

Sliding the green button on the screen to answer the call, he pressed the phone against his ear with sweaty fingers as the frighteningly gentle and calm voice of a young woman spoke through the phone.

_"__You were right, director... You really should stay away from the shadows."_

**...**

The director trembled with overwhelming relief as the call ended.

However it was short-lived as he felt the familiar paranoia take over him as it always does after he receives a call from her; her uncanny knowledge to know where he was, what he said and what he was doing 24/7 was something that had always chilled him to the bone. More so that he could just never understand how she did it.

He took a calming breathe as he dialled the White House's private line and brought the phone back up to his ear.

"Mr President," he muttered, his voice practically exuding his exhaustion and reluctance.

_"__Yes? What did she say?"_

"She has agreed to meet you and your family," the director's voice was tainted with his confusion at the Eidolon's agreement of such a request, "she will be at your mansion in a couple of hours, she wishes to get it over and done with."

There was silence, before the President started to profusely thank the CIA director with a hopeful and excited voice.

Tired of the situation and just needing to say this before he could end the conversation, the CIA director cut-off the President's gratefulness.

"Just a warning, Mr President, don't be fooled by the Eidolon's looks. It has been the reason for many people's deaths."

_"__Understood director. We will let you know how it goes."_

**...**

**BELLA**

My body glows as I slam the glass down and smile lazily as the sharp flames of tequila burn down from my throat and to every fingertip.

I breathe in deeply and the amber liquid is washed away by the fumes of sweat, glitter and sex that intoxicate the air of the building; as I breath back out, I observe the gyrating mass of scantily dressed women and eager men before my eyes fall on a hidden booth on the other side of the club.

The flash of the multicoloured strobe lights obscure the features of the two men who lay back casually against the leather seats of the booth, but I can clearly see as their hungry eyes scope out the women on the dance floor who are unaware of what may befall them.

One mutters to the other, and I watch as the taller man points to a petite brunette dancing just on the outskirts of the crowd. I sneer in disgust as the other makes a lewd gesture to which both roar with laughter and begin to make more vulgar gestures about the oblivious woman. The revulsion I feel fuels the fire in my veins which urges me to move now, to put out the fire with their blood.

I stand up from my own booth, hidden from the eyes in the club as I swiftly make my way towards where the men are seated, keeping to the shadows on the edge of the club as I pass the pulsating bodies with a smooth grace that ensures that none see me.

Just before I enter their vision, I hide behind the layers of a silk black curtain that is pulled back from their booth to fix my dress; I inch the neckline of my low-cut scarlet dress even further down and push my hair back from my shoulders to expose the long expanse of my pale neck and chest.

I glance around the edges of the curtain quickly to check that none had spotted me in my hideout, I fix my features into a sultry expression and I feel my lips purse and eyes darken with the veneer of fake lust as I step away from the shadows of the silk curtain.

I feel the adrenaline pumping through me in waves of anticipation as I enter their line of vision and sensually walk past their booth. I feel their heated eyes tear away from the woman on the dance floor, and land on my own body as I sway my hips and feel my long hair bounce across my hips. I turn my head towards them, making sure that their focus is locked on me as I part my crimson painted lips in a beckoning smile and wink slowly, promisingly.

It only takes me a second to pass their line of vision and reach the exit door just a few metres from their booth; I push it open and slip swiftly away into the night as I wait for my prey.

As I wait, I hear the sound of the exit door being pushed impatiently open but I am already walking towards the alley that is so very conveniently placed directly across from the club. The fine hairs at the back of my neck stand up in warning and I know that my targets are also walking towards the alley as they catch glimpses of my scarlet dress.

"Hey, honey!" one yells, his words distorted by liquor and a thick accented brogue.

I make my way further down the alley and crouch behind a dumpster, peering around the corner of the dirty green metal as I wait for them to make their way far enough.

The second one also begins to yell, his loud words ricocheting off the brick walls of the alley that is stained with things I'd rather not know the origin of.

"Why don't ya slow ya sweet ass down, so we can catch up and have some fun with ya?"

I see them stop a couple metres away from the dumpster, confused as to where I've gone as I roll my eyes at their stupidity.

"Where'd the fuckin' whore go?" muttered the bigger one.

Indignant rage flows through me and red bleeds through my vision in droplets as I watch them pace, fury at what they have done and what they had planned to do to so many more causes me to step out of the shadows, my face a calm mask of blankness.

The two whirl around at my sudden appearance, confusion crossing their features once more before their eyes fall to my chest that is heaving with suppressed rage.

Lust overtakes them once more, both walk forward menacingly and I step back with my face down, seemingly helpless as the shorter one cracks his knuckles and smiles with a revolting giddiness.

"I promise honey, we won't hurt ya so… much."

"Now now," the other one tuts as I continue to step back in a facade of terror, he leers and licks his lips, his disgusting hand venturing towards his straining zipper, "don't go makin' this harder on yourself"

I pause in my backtrack, letting them come closer as a sudden giggle escapes my lips.

I look up, making sure that they see every one of my features twisting into a dark expression that I know makes me look like I've lost my mind.

"What the...?" they both sputter to a stop as they stare, open-eyed.

"Oh boys," I giggle out, the furious anger I feel bleeding through the soft tone of my voice as my dark eyes stare down the shocked men, who begin to instinctually walk backwards in their haste to get away.

"I promise you, _honey_, that this is going to hurt so... much"

**...**

A triumphant smirk dances across my lips as I close my phone and end the conversation between the CIA director and myself. I take a moment to savour the pleasure that surges through me, closing my eyes as I realise that it had been too long since I'd gotten a mission from the agency.

Slipping my phone back into its place in my bra, I turn back around to face the two men collapsed against the bricks of the alley, groaning and struggling to stay off of the filthy floor that is sprayed with droplets of blood.

"I'm sorry boys," I croon with a small pout on my lips, "but we are going to have to cut the playtime short"

I reach underneath the short hem of my tight dress and un-tape the gun that was stuck to the inside of my thigh before attaching the silencer that was taped to my forearm, I walk up to the two of them who were still heaving against the alley wall in pain. I feel the brief happiness of the phone call washing away and waves of anger crash into me once more as the two men moan at their injuries.

I grab the nearest one and lean down close enough to whisper into his bloodied ear.

"I hope you feel as much fear and pain as those young girls did," I mutter, feeling disgust as the man freezes at my words and begins to tremble, "you and your friend deserve to rot in hell for what you've done"

And with that I push the gun against his head and pull the trigger.

I balance on the thin heels of my leather black platforms as I step over to the other one and lean over him, he barely moves as he watches me with dread-filled eyes, his breathes coming out in gasps before he stutters out between bloodied teeth.

"Y-you're a killer"

I smirk, amused at his random words, "Yes I am, and you're a rapist"

"You're going to hell t-too," he chokes out, his blue eyes boring into mine as I stare back unrepentantly.

"Hell wouldn't have me," I state coldly before pulling the trigger and watch him slump against the wall.

**...**

I make my way from the repulsive alleyway and find my car so I can begin the route to the White House. The radio blares to life as I twist the keys in the ignition and I resist the urge to growl as an immediate news update is being broadcasted about the non-existent information of the whereabouts of the missing Cullen sons.

I want this assignment but God only knows what I was thinking when I agreed to meet the President of the United States.

All I know was that I need this mission, and I would do anything to ensure that I was the one to complete it. The earlier triumph I felt had faded away as I contemplate the rashness of my decision to meet the President and his family.

It had been far too long since the last mission and I needed to feel the blood on my hands once more, to satisfy this craving and this feeling of suffocation that would only ease when a life had been taken. The two men in the alley were not enough. I needed the pain, the self-hatred and disgust; I needed to feel something, anything that would help me feel even slightly human again.

A dark laugh left my lips, I knew that I never would be at peace again; there was nothing that could tame the acid of hate that boiled underneath my skin nor nothing that could stop the corrosive desire to kill. It was ingrained into me; another's death was the only thing that allowed my desire to simmer instead of boil.

I'm addicted and the CIA are my dealers. They have the information when I need a fix.

The familiar tongues of hatred consume me as I think about the bastards who made me into what I could not escape. Thinking of their torture, the way they had shattered us... a storm of chaotic memories force their way into my mind as I speed across the highway in the direction of the Capitol. The suffocating echoes of screams, broken bones and forceful hands invade my mind as I grip the steering wheel tightly.

I breathe deeply in hopes to calm the electrifying surges of adrenaline and anger that automatically rush through me, telling me to fight and to never stop.

A sudden smile of malice plays on my lips as I reminisce in the memory of my torturer's deaths, everything done unto us had been repaid but at a price. My lips quickly tilt back down as I remember their deaths being the moment I felt the last of my humanity and hope slip away.

I push the destructive thoughts out of my mind with a well rehearsed shove before focusing solely on my drive, thinking of nothing else but my surroundings as I urge my body to calm down.

Before long, I reach the imposing building of the White House.

I inhale deeply as I weave my car through the long path of entry, stopping at a gate and glass box that houses a security guard and machines to check for harmful devices.

The single bored attendant doesn't look up from his phone as he asks me for my name.

"The President and his wife are expecting me," I say, ignoring his question, "they should have called, I have immediate admittance".

The man clearly doesn't care as he acknowledges my claim with a nod before pressing a small green button on the console in front of him causing the gates before me to part. I make my way to the front of the building and stop before the impressive entryway where a uniformed valet attendant waits.

Resigned at my decision to meet the family of whom I was being assigned to save, I step out of the car and throw the keys to the valet who is stunned at the sight of my exceedingly skimpy dress. I roll my eyes and pull a long and thick black trench coat from the backseat, wrapping it around my figure before fixing my features into a blank look of innocence.

I huff at how my desperation has led me to such a situation, and straighten my shoulders as I walk up to the pristine white doorway that is obscured by the darkness of the night.

My hands clench at the silk belt that holds my coat together before I bring my right hand up towards the door. Before I can even touch the knocker, the door swings open with a speed that causes my senses to sting with alarm and my body to tense in a crouch in preparation of an attack.

I am frozen in my rigid defensive stance as I take in the sight before me, my face unmoving from its numb expression.

Three faces all stare incredulously at my crouched form, two of the faces I easily register as the obviously recognisable faces of the President and First Lady whilst the third face, a woman, is unknown.

I slowly stand from my bended stance as I take in the gaunt faces of all three figures, all with red rings beneath their eyes, unkempt appearances and nails that are bitten down to the flesh.

"My apologies for startling you," the First Lady whispers, her copper hair swishing as she shakes her head with tears in her eyes, "we were just expecting… someone."

I begin to feel uncomfortable as the First Lady continues to stare piercingly at me with her emerald eyes that begin to glaze over as her tears turn into audible cries. The President immediately comforts her and I can feel his similar disappointment in their apparent belief that I am not their expected visitor.

The thought amuses me slightly and I continue to watch as the unknown woman begins to comfort the First Lady as well. I take the time to observe her, assessing whether she is a threat or not as I note her tall yet lithe tanned frame; the woman looks like she should be on the runway with her long waves of blond hair, unique dark golden eyes and aristocratic features.

I cough in obvious discomfort at the sentimental scene and their heads all snap to me once more.

"If I am not mistaken, you were in fact expecting _me_," I state blandly, eager to have done with this meeting already and just get started on the mission.

"You?" the President asks and I suppress the urge to huff at the looks of disbelief on their faces.

"Yes," I say in a bored tone, "I"

"But," he states with a deep frown creased in the lines of his face, "You look... I mean... but... young... just... you can't!"

Both the First Lady and the amber-eyed woman nod their heads absentmindedly, seemingly in tune with the President's disjointed words.

"But alas," I reply calmly, "I can, and will. We are talking about saving your sons aren't we? I assure you that the person you spoke about with the CIA director was I. Now, may I come in?"

**...**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favourited or followed :)**


	4. A Thousand Words

**3**

**_Underneath my smile, holding back a scream _**

**_A thousand words, trapped inside of me_**

**CHAPTER 3**

**CARLISLE**

There was nothing about her to suggest that she was the killer she claimed to be.

Even when she was poised in a crouch, ready to attack with her body prepared to fight, her expression was of utter blankness and control. Her granite expression and precise body movements defied the persona of a rabid and uncontrollable killer that had been attached to the Eidolon's name.

As Esme, Rosalie and I stood aside in a dazed shock, allowing her to enter our home, the lips of the petite brunette tilted in an amused smirk as her extremely dark eyes gleamed with a concoction of emotions.

We all blindly followed the small woman into the opulently decorated main living room, the anxious emotions of the past few days riding all of our nerves into a stunned stupor as we continued to gaze at the woman who couldn't even be older than my sons.

The woman was an anomaly to my staggered mind, her porcelain skin and delicately soft features spoke of a pure innocence that defied every single thing we had heard about the Eidolon, and yet the shadows that slithered in the depths of her dark eyes, were so hauntingly disturbing to witness and left no doubt in my mind the she had earned the killer name that she possessed.

The frightening emptiness of her expression and the soul-deep agony that blackened her eyes were undeniably clear to see. Her ivory features seemed to be chiselled from ice; I scrutinised her with an overwhelming curiosity and was incredibly unnerved as I saw the pain and chaos that even she could not hide beneath her hardened skin.

With every blink, another page of her tormented soul turned to reveal the horrors within.

I began to feel nausea creep up into my throat as I realised that even someone so controlled as she, could not bury the agony that had been inflicted upon her.

Rosalie, Esme and I sat on the couch opposite to the woman who continued to sit with both demureness and slight impatience. I turned towards Esme, and I felt the cracks in my heart splinter as I observed the maternally heartbroken expression on my wife's face, Esme gazed at the petite woman just as I had, and a small and sad frown quirked my lips as tears brimmed my loving wife's eyes.

I gently took hold of Esme's hand; Rose grasped her other before speaking in a strong tone.

"My name is Rosalie and I am Emmett's fiancé," she stated firmly, she pointed towards Esme and I, "you obviously know the President and First Lady, and you are?"

My breathing was erratic as I stared at the brunette, my sons faces appearing in my anxiety-tinged vision.

"My name is Isabella and I am the one assigned to retrieve the rest of your family," she replied, her deep yet soft voice washing over us as she continued to sit stiffly with her hands folded in her lap. The smooth lilt of her voice surprised me as gentle waves of calm and hope washed over me, my heart beating to its normal rhythm for the first time since I heard the news of my sons kidnapping.

In just a few short minutes, this dangerous killer of a woman somehow had my trust, sympathy and faith.

It was frightening to imagine how many may have trusted her, and how many may now be dead.

"So do we call you Isabella or do you expect us to call you the Eidolon? Because I must say that the Eidolon just sounds stupid when someone says it."

My eyes bugged to extraordinary proportions as I stared with an open mouth at Rose.

Rose had always been headstrong, and perfectly so to contrast against Emmett's impulsive nature, yet Rose's distress over the kidnapping had made her incredibly volatile and acerbic to anyone that crossed her. My thoughts were in frenzy as both Esme and I's heads swivelled like bobble-heads from Rose's upturned, stubborn face, to Isabella, who stared at Rosalie as if nothing had been spoken.

"I happen to agree with you Rosalie; I would actually prefer to be called Bella, if you would be so kind"

I had never seen Rose so stunned, her mouth dropped as if she hadn't expected the robotic-like figure to have an answer to such a spontaneous reply.

"Ok, uh... Bella"

"Thank you, Rosalie"

Rosalie shifted uncomfortably, casting suspicious glances at Isabella and I could see that she did not believe that the woman was the Eidolon killer.

"How do we know that you are the real Eidolon? You don't even look like a killer; you look 20 for god sake!"

I didn't even bother with being shocked as my eyes closed in exasperation, bringing my palm up to my face and causing a soft smack to echo in the room. I wondered whether it was possible for a face-palm to just knock me out now so that I didn't have to apologise to a world-renowned assassin and now have to beg said murderer to go to a foreign country to rescue three Navy Seal's who happen to be the United States President's sons. You know, as usual.

"Rose!" Esme snapped, her face scrunched up and became splotched with red.

I opened my mouth to apologise but was cut off as Isabella's face tilted up into a tiny smile.

I was as frozen as Medusa's victims as I witnessed the miniscule turning of the woman's features, rusty little dimples and creases appeared like her mouth had never been in that position before. Her entire face lightened with the smallest smile, directed at a surprised Rose, and I felt the urge to smile back just looking at her as she suddenly appeared to be an ordinary young girl, Esme didn't hold back as I glanced at the beaming smile that was on my wife's face.

The power of this woman was both confusing and frightening, I had no doubt she was who she said she was and all I could feel was grateful instead of selfish that someone like her was going to save my sons.

Her smile disappeared as quickly as it came, and her face immediately dropped back into smooth lines and hardened surfaces of porcelain as she answered Rose's questions.

"I can certainly prove to you that I am the Eidolon," a chill coursed through my body at the woman's foreboding words, "but I doubt that you would like to clean up blood this late at night. The way that I look is a distinct advantage in my line of work, just as my age is, which actually happens to be 23"

"I... uh..." Rose stuttered as she recovered from the plainly stated words of Isabella, "I still don't believe it"

I readied my hand so that I could hit my face hard enough just as Isabella's words stopped me.

"Observational skills and deductive reasoning are traits that you are required to have if you wish to succeed in executing a successful kill," Isabella stared at Rose, the blonde woman captured in the intensity of the other's gaze. Isabella's words were monotonic and textbook-like, thoroughly taught to her and mechanically repeated to us, I was nauseous again as I thought of the past of this woman so young.

"These traits are ones that I have, and are traits that tell me that the only two bodyguards in the room are both behind my back in attempts to be covert as they stand silently and away from my periphery, and yet the one on my left is on his phone judging by the noise and the other desperately needs to use the bathroom based on the erratic scuffing of his shoes on the floor. I suggest you let him as he is not going to last another 5 minutes and this carpet is rather beautiful.

"Rosalie, you are deeply distrustful of men but have not always been, you sit on the edge of the couch, your back is to the wall with a perfect view of all the exits and males in the room and your eyes unconsciously scan the room every minute. Your body, even sitting down is balanced to fight; your feet are shoulder width apart, arms and core are tense and your hands ball into properly taught fists all which mean that you took up defensive training, probably at the insistence of your fiancé. The reasoning for such paranoia is clear and I assume that the two people next to you are aware as they are naturally positioning themselves in front of you in protection as I speak.

"I say this is not to be cruel but because no matter your anger Rosalie, you would be emotionally inclined to respect me for such a socially coarse speech. Your abrasive personality and natural liking of strong characters makes me believe so. I require the respect of not just you, Rosalie, but all three of you so that you can believe I will get the job done and allow me to do so without interruptions or doubt."

Utter silence.

Utter. Goddamn. Silence.

In my frozen state of mind, I registered the sight of one of the bodyguard agents in the right corner of the room rush off in an awkward sprint towards the bathroom. Everyone's breath was caught in their throats at Isabella's blatant display, a tingling sense of paranoia crawled up my body at the knowledge that this woman could accumulate about my family and I.

Rosalie's breaths were harsh, my mind was simply shut down in disbelief as I stared in worry at Rose's state and yet, whilst her nostrils flared in absolute fury I could see the respect and curiosity in the depths of her amber eyes. Isabella was right.

"You, I-I, you," Rose continued to stutter in absolute incredulity, staring at Isabella as if she had never seen her before, "just... fuck... I don't... h-how are you going to bring back the boys, my Emmett?"

An unexpected and exhausted smile graced my lips at Rose's words; her abrupt question was her acceptance and admission of respect.

"I can't disclose any details of the mission to any of you. I apologise," Isabella added quickly as Esme twisted her head quickly in an indignant air, "as if any enemy agents were to somehow get a hold of any of you, I do not want to take the chance that the mission be compromised."

"What!" cried Rose, her emotional form returning as she stood up in anger, "we have the right to know! None of us would ever tell any enemy douche-bags anything! How the fuck could you think that?"

Esme pulled Rosalie back down to the couch as Isabella's mahogany eyes narrowed, her emotions indecipherable as her face remained set in stone.

"I think that because I know so; I've maimed, I've disembowelled, I've tortured, I've killed, pick anything you want Rosalie, because I know that in my life I've probably done it. I've never crossed the line by deliberately killing an innocent but you are deluded if you think that all people in my line of work hold the same ethic. They will not hesitate to never let you, Emmett, Jasper or Edward ever see the light of day again no matter who the hell you are. And I know that. I know what they are doing to those three men right now and I know that I cannot tell you the details of the mission because one of those 'enemy douche-bags' would not even blink an eye at throwing you in the same cell as your fiancé to die."

It felt like déjà vu as the room fell into an intense silence once more and every breath was tight, the ice in my chest gripped my heart in an unrelenting vice as with every word of Isabella's, the frozen fingers of fear flexed and pummelled my heart into tatters.

"Please," my wife cried softly, her voice breaking as she stared imploringly at the woman before us, "we believe you and you have our belief in your abilities... just please, save them?"

"Ma'am," Isabella stated quietly and uncomfortably, her entire demeanour flipping as easily as the turn of a coin, "my mission is to bring your sons back and assassinate the perpetrators. I have never failed in any of my tasks, and I..." she broke off, her eyebrows creasing as if she had never comforted another human being before, "I don't intend to fail this one either, ma'am"

Tears of relief sprung into my eyes at the oddly disjointed yet comforting words.

"Thank you, thank you so much," whispered Esme, her voice laced with rivulets of emotion, "and please call me Esme, Bella"

Isabella's reaction to Esme's tearful gratitude and display of emotion was weirdly fascinating as she sat back into the chair, her features tilting into an expression of slight confusion with her head cocked to the side, studying us as we studied her.

"Alright... Esme," Bella said cautiously, causing Esme to tearfully grin and happily squeeze my hand with her own.

"And please call me Carlisle as well, Bella," I added, the tension in my chest warring with the newfound hope that I desperately clutched with all my heart.

"I guess you can call me Rose than," Rosalie stated nonchalantly, flicking her hair as she brought her hand up to inspect her nails and I couldn't help the quiet burst of laughter that erupted from my chest at Rosalie's display of casualness in front of a legendary assassin.

Esme's sweet giggles soon joined my own growing laughter and before long, Esme, Rose and I were grasping our sides as the living room bounced with a mix of our rambunctious laughter.

My stomach felt raw as we all calmed down from our laughter, a few random chuckles springing from my throat as I wiped my eyes and raised my head to Bella's leather chair opposite of us.

My laughter trailed off as I stared at the empty chair, I turned my head in search of the brunette woman and could see the bodyguard in the back searching too, but with no luck.

She had disappeared like a ghost fading back into the underworld, our remnant laughter being the only evidence that she was ever in our presence. Esme, Rose and I could do nothing but stare at each other in confusion and odd acceptance.

"Well I liked her," Rose piped up.

I was convinced that no matter how far the mysterious Eidolon had glided, she would still have been able to hear the thunderous laughter that erupted from all three of us at Rose's words, all of our pain and all of our hope in this enigma of a woman ricocheting off the walls as we laughed our emotions away.

**...**

**BELLA**

I was stupefied. Dumbfounded. Just plain mind-fucked.

Had it been so long since I had engaged in healthy human-interaction that I could not even comprehend laughter?

Yes. Yes it had been. Meeting an actual family for the first time had been... astounding. From their linked hands in search of comfort, their protective stances and unabashed tears; obviously I knew that there were families in the world that loved each other but to see it so casually, so open, all my mind could comprehend was raw shock and a twisted sense of fascination.

The sound of their laughter felt like someone was clapping me with cymbals; it was unafraid and just resonated with the release of pure emotion, they were so free to express their pain or joy even in their own time of turmoil.

Is that what it was like to be human?

I had never felt as... clean as I had in their presence, their genuine natures were something I had not seen in anyone I had ever met. I felt like a black hole sitting in that pristine leather chair, a swirling mass of destruction and pure obsidian that had no business being among the stars, among people that didn't deserve the pain that was inflicted upon them.

Their terror for the Cullen sons was transparent despite all of them having their different methods of dealing with it; Esme cried, Carlisle was silent; Rosalie took all the opportunities she could to vent her anger.

Before my reaction to Rosalie's outbursts, I had never been taken by surprise; when Rosalie spat out her remarks, my mouth had turned upwards in an amused and appreciating smile before I realised what my own face was doing. I could practically hear the muscles in my cheeks creaking, I can't remember the last time I smiled, even as small as I had before.

My mouth turned down into a scowl, something it was much more familiar with, as I pushed away all thoughts of meeting the Cullen's and continued to speed through the twisted roads of the animated city.

I slowed to a crawl as I turned into a glowing street lined with flamboyant lights and bursting with drunken people. The line of hot pink neon signs flashed with an eye-blinding power, illuminating the heated couples that dotted the sidewalk and skimpy dressed people of both sexes that waved enticingly to their marks.

I continued down the street unnoticed, weaving through the inebriated crowd as I crawled to the darker end of the street that was only seen due to the faded pink lights of the clubs next door. I caught sight of the dingy grey and blue sign I was looking for and quickly pulled into the mechanic shop, causing several random drunkards to holler and trip over themselves.

I pulled into an empty spot quietly, the sound of the engine being masked by the loud thrum of the shop speakers and faded bass from the clubs next door. I turned off the engine before opening the glove compartment and pulling out the Beretta that I had used on the two men in the alley earlier in the night, leaving the silencer in the compartment before shutting it again.

I slipped the gun into the pocket of my thick coat before exiting the car and went unseen as the squeaking sounds of metal and the burning fumes of spray paint absorbed into the dirty brick walls of the car shop.

The massive and brightly-lit warehouse inside was a distinct opposite to the decrepit and dingy appearance of the shop outside that one would have thought to be small from its ruined frame.

All of the grease-covered men ran around with their lumbering gaits, dodging sparks and avoiding puddles of car oil before sticking their heads into open bonnets. Stolen car parts littered the walls as other workers inspected them before choosing their piece to strip the paint and remove all traces of past evidence.

I walked around the edges of the large building, still going unnoticed as I detached a chord from the security camera on the east corner with a swift pull and began to look around for the specific mechanic I wanted.

He was sitting in his office just a few metres away from me, I could see even from my limited view that he was distracted as he looked into a filing cabinet underneath the desk. The office was a large room that was built into the back wall and had a glass front that enabled him to observe all activity of the workshop.

The few men that were scattered across the back wall stared curiously as I walked towards the office in my leather platform pumps and black trench coat. Another man, tall, tattooed and clad in dirty blue overalls, was walking towards the office but had not noticed me as his head was down, focusing on cleaning his greasy hands onto on even greasier rag. I could see his ears perk up as he caught sound of my shoes clicking on the matting of the floor before his dilating eyes rose slowly over my suggestive outfit and to my smirking face.

We reached the door at the same time, my hand grasping the cool silver handle first as I placed my other hand softly onto his chest.

His hands rose up, as if he was unaware of his actions, to take hold of my waist but he froze as I tightly clenched my hand into the fabric of his shirt and deepened my smirk into sinister lines.

I pulled his head down slightly towards my own to place my lips near his ear, his large brown eyes widened comically and I resisted the urge to breathe out a laugh at the man's lack of strength.

"I have quite an urgent appointment with your boss," I whispered into his ear, lowering my voice to a soft and sultry tone, "and I suggest that you don't interrupt us and cause a delay, he probably doesn't want to pay more than he already has too"

I almost laughed at the full-body shudder that visibly ran throughout his body and I quickly used his distraction to open the office door and slip through swiftly. I closed the door behind me, turning away from the dazed man and causing the cacophonous noises of the chop shop to fade away into nothing as the door sealed into the frame, soundproof.

Keeping my eyes away from the man in the office who was now watching my every move, I walked to the edge of the room and pulled the strings of the blinds down, shielding our impending conversation from the rest of the warehouse.

The man's nerves were palpable despite his seemingly bored stance; his chest moved with even yet shallow breaths as his hands minutely twitched towards the SIG Saur that sat on top of the papers on his desk, the metal glinting in the bright lights of the office.

"What are you doing here, la sombre?"

I sneered at such a stupid question, "Why else would I be here, Ashley? I need weapons and in case you have forgotten, I'm pretty sure that you are a weapons dealer, yes?"

The man's chest heaved with irritation at being addressed with such disrespect; his eyes narrowed as his previous fear became overwhelmed with anger, his tanned South-American skin flushing with a furious red.

Ashley Romero was definitely not accustomed to a lack of courtesy, having been born to one of the 'Kings' of the Spanish cartels he was born to a fortune that was wealthier than God. When his father passed away, Ashley, in his mid 40s had assumed the head of the cartel as the eldest child and had relocated to America where he began to become known in the underworld as he distributed guns and drugs to anyone who had the money. The Romero gangs were notorious, ruthless and yet rarely were they ever in any gang wars; they acted as middle men, establishing connections and supplying other cartels without discrimination but with the clause that their buyers would never use the given weapons to bite the hand that fed. As simple as it was, it worked; other gangs allowed them to grow and share their land just so they would have access to the superior and clean material that the Romero's provided.

They were the strongest and smartest of suppliers; and despite his age and lanky, thin frame that was at first glance, unintimidating, the oldest Romero had done nothing but improve his family business with cut-throat efficiency. They were the suppliers I had used for years and had only ever dealt with Ashley specifically; I was given more security with the Romero cartels as I had done several contracts for them over the years, and had their protection despite their fear of my legend.

My ability to also bring down their rival organisations protects the Romero cartels livelihood considerably and in return, they supply any vehicles, papers and weaponry of all kinds that I ask for at a reduced price. Despite the comfortable exchange of services, the relationship I held with the crime boss was anything but comfortable, but it was necessary, and in the end people like us never really had the lifestyle to accommodate friends.

"I told you not to come here again, usted está loco!"

"Well, I didn't listen. There was no way I was going to meet in your other office, Romero; it's in a brothel for fuck sake!"

Romero resignedly threw his hands up into the air before sinking back into his office chair, leaving the gun on his desk in full view of both of us.

"I think this will be enough to change your mind about the inconvenience, Romero"

I pulled back the collar of my coat, deftly reaching into my bra for the small and thin polaroids before throwing them onto the desk, causing them to scatter all over the expanse in front of Romero.

He sat up with lighting speed, his weary and angry face transforming into an expression of feverish delight as he took in the gruesome sights of blood and gore depicted in the several photographs I had thrown before him.

"Dios mío," he breathed, his hands collecting the grotesque photos before reverently sifting through them, drinking in the sight of the two rapists bloodied, beaten and barely able to keep themselves upright against those filthy alley walls that seemed to pulsate with music even through the still photos.

"These are the right ones? You are sure?" He asked strongly, his eyes glinting with a psychotic gleam.

"Yes, Romero, those are the two, I caught them before they went off with their last target"

"Esos pendejos!" Romero's face twisted up in fury and disgust, "These bastards would have permanently hurt my niece if she had not gotten free, but even now she refuses to leave her room! I would ask if you made them suffer but I can clearly see that you did," he muttered the last sentence with glee in his voice as continued to rifle through the polaroids that I had taken right before I had called the CIA director.

"And you did not give anything away about my business, la sombre? No indication about the true vendetta, nothing that could have been overheard?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, "you don't hire me because I am an amateur, Romero. No, the alley way is behind a club so no one could hear, it was deserted and a dead end, there was no way for anyone to hide without me seeing them there."

"And these two are still there?"

"Yes, for about 4 hours. And here's the gun," I said as I pulled the Beretta out of my coat pocket and placed it on the desk, "can I get it back after you scrape it down?"

"Of course. Everything you want today is free; consider it as a personal thankyou from my familia."

"Excellent, do you have everything I asked for?"

Romero nodded in response before standing up to his large height and walking to the western wall of his huge office where two differently sized black hardware crates sat in the far corner. Keeping me in his sights, he bent down to the larger of the crates to input a password, that I observed, into the computerised keypad causing the keypad to beep green and release the latch of the crate with a small snicket noise.

"This one is the weapons," he stated before standing up and going to the other crate with was the size of briefcase.

I fully opened the heavy-duty crate and felt an exploding bolt of pleasure course through my exhilarated form as the scent of newly formed metal hit my senses, and I took in the magnificent site of the weapons that lined the foam ground of the crate.

One SR-25 sniper rifle, one A5 Browning shotgun, two Beretta M9 pistols and several other shiny new guns were all prettily lined up in their dustproof cases; sting and explosive grenades were also placed in the crate around the guns along with a few other toys that would surely come in handy. I felt my body erupt in tingles as the urge to test out my new weapons hit me with the strength of a freight train.

Every woman loves their sparkly gems. Mine just happen to shoot bullets.

"And this one is the papers; I had my best do the work as you only called yesterday"

Romero broke me out of my besotted trance as I looked up at the other open briefcase that was filled with various envelopes. I sadly closed the lid of the gun menagerie before taking hold of the briefcase from Romero's hands and placing it on top of the bigger crate. I opened the first envelope to reveal 3 different sets of passports, license cards, birth certificates, social security numbers, and all other possible identification papers that all held my face with different names. They were perfectly forged and no law enforcement would be able to catch the lie within the fake papers.

Pulling the other envelopes out of the case, I kept Romero in my sights as I pulled out the papers from the second envelope and was pleased to see that the false papers for Emmett Cullen were just as perfectly done as my own. Quickly checking that the papers for the other Cullen brothers were as flawlessly forged and designed, I scanned over the spare identification papers and the different currency money bundles before I put the papers back into their respective envelopes before closing the briefcase back up. I needed these papers in case I needed to rush the brothers over any borders or needed to stop over somewhere that required identification where obviously, I would not be able to use their real names or pictures lest they get taken by any random dealer for ransom once more.

"And the password for the briefcase is the same as the gun case, Romero?"

"Yes, sombra..." he hesitated, his nervousness barely showing through his stiff stance, "I have a question"

"I thought we didn't ask questions, Romero"

"And that is why I do not even know your name but I have to ask, you plan to rescue the Cullen brothers, no? Bring them back to their familia?"

"Yes, the papers should have told you enough Ashley," I stated with ice in my voice, "I trust that you won't reveal this fact to anyone?"

"Of course not, I was simply curious whether the three brothers were your targets to kill or to retrieve"

"I was tasked with retrieving the brothers and eliminating the perpetrators, something which, in fact would benefit your own business with another rival gone"

Romero took a deep breath before his lips split into a wide grin of appreciation at my words, his gleaming white teeth contrasting with the russet tones of his skin as he made his way back to his desk with me following, black briefcase in my hands.

"I take it you want me to fly the gun crate over?"

I nodded in response to Romero's question as I made my way to the glass wall of his office, pulling back the blinds that I had previously shut to the exact position they had been in before.

"I am due to fly privately in about an hour to which I will arrive at my destination approximately mid-day tomorrow; will you be able to fly it over before then?"

Romero nodded, "where to?"

For unfathomably emotional reasons that I could not decipher, my lips unconsciously drifted into that foreign position of a tiny smile for the second time today as I registered Romero's question. My hands gripped the cool, silver handle of the glass door with a deathly hold as I forced the wisp of a smile away from my face and spat out my destination through gritted teeth.

"Volterra, Italy. Home of the Volturi mob and as of recently, the Cullen brothers."

**...**

**THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who favourite or followed :)**

**And THANKS ESPECIALLY to those who reviewed and voted this story as a Top 5 September Favourite on A Different Forest; there is an amazing selection of stories in that list that need to be read and I am so happy to have even been considered! **

**AND FINALLY, Bella will be meeting Edward, Jasper and Emmett next chapter :P**

**There was a mistake when I first posted the chapter, Bella is 23 not 20 :)**


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